Anniversary
by Houyoku
Summary: On the eve of a first anniversary, one may find that certain expectations may not be met. In fact, surpassing them might be a simpler process. [LouisePent]


**Anniversary**

© Nintendo, Intelligent Systems

By Becki

_Read the Writer's Blah blah._

This is to give myself some comfort if anything. For the past three months, I'd been stalling with my other fan fiction, and kept putting off the update date. So when I had to put it off again, I felt that I had to come with a peace offering, even if nobody cares. It gives me some peace, in a sense.

So here's the peace offering. I actually wrote this in December of 2005, originally as a sketch of a story that I didn't feel too much inspiration for, but had fun writing anyways. It was somewhat of an experiment in reaction to a late review of 'Lady of Violets', in which the reader asked for a continuation. I wanted to try to effectively weave an original cast into the FE cast, just to see what would happen.

Though I really don't like writing sequels to one-shots (especially one with a story that I was halfway fond of) I had never expected that I would post this, so I worked on it whenever I felt led to. But since this is the only thing halfway decent thing I could put up, it seems that the unexpected has truly come to pass. So I'm sorry if this at all ruins any feeling of satisfaction you might have had after reading 'Lady of Violets.' But the bright side is that my writing has significantly improved since then.

It is also comprised of two parts. The second half will be updated… if anybody really wants me to install it. Like I said, I never intended to publicly display this. Also I have not gone through and proofread this with my current writing skills. Bear in mind that this is a reflection of my skill almost a year ago.

Becki

* * *

**_Winter Holiday_**

A year after his cousin's marriage, Aren arrived in Reglay, through the wide, gold-embroidered doors and vast halls. The wealth of Etruria was undeniable, and with young admiration, he gazed at the ostentatious display. As his eyes studied the design, his mother walked behind him, murmuring indiscernible words.

A man took his winter cloak from him, but he kept his coat and hat, absently glancing at the portraits on the walls. Brushing his snow-dusted hair away from his eyes, he continued to marvel at the ironic simplicity of the castle's design. Though the walls were made of marble and gold, the decorations were simple and required austere craftsmanship.

When he stepped into the next chamber, the first thing to greet him was a rush of air, and two people flew passed where he stood with a speed he never thought was humanly possible. He caught his hat as it fell beside his brow, and stood back quizzically.

"I should have known that it was your doing!" a man said, a man with a voice too gentle for reprimanding. Mystified, Aren peered beyond the door. He was surprised to see that the first person had been his cousin, with her plaited hair flaring wildly behind her. The expression he briefly caught on her face was one of distraught; she looked upset. The second person was a young man moving almost as quickly as she was, and was close enough to touch the end of her braid. Seeking to come to her aid, Aren moved forward sharply when a nearby maiden raised her arm across the door and halted him.

"Don't be foolish!" his cousin yelled from across the room in reply, "If I _hadn't_ done it, you would work yourself to death!"

"Who is that man?" Aren gasped, and watched his cousin gracefully fall over a small footrest. It was waiting to happen, there was furniture everywhere. She rolled over quickly to get up, but the man dropped on his knees and leaned over her, planting both of his palms upon the ground on either side of her head so she was pinned. Long strands of bluish hair fell over his eyes. Aren could not see the face beneath.

"That is Count Reglay," said the maiden strangely, and pushed him back into the lobby. "You mustn't be so alarmed," she added, when his mother behind him gave a stare of true horror.

"What _am_ I going to do with you?" Count Reglay asked, and Louise laughed. She raised a hand and brushed the hair away from his face.

"I did you a favor," she replied innocently, "you could try to be grateful, and at least give me a word of thanks." He laughed, and traced her temple with his fingertips.

The maiden blocking the door made a peculiar coughing sound, and the couple looked hastily at the group's direction. From the angle Aren could see Pent's face. He shared the common resemblance of many Etrurians. Clean, graceful faces with high, gently curving cheeks. In Bern, men often had well groomed facial hair and angular features.

"It's Aren!" Louise said, and her husband slowly got up. She reached to take his waiting hand, and together they stood, brushing themselves off. They were both in a lack of breath, as if they had been running through the entire palace.

"Hullo Louise," Aren said hopelessly, forgetting his mother's meticulous instructions regarding the greeting of a foreign noble. It hardly seemed necessary anymore, seeing how the Count was introduced in the most unconventional fashion. His mother, however, begged to disagree.

"My lord Pent," she said formally, almost dryly, and looked at Louise. It was the type of look that Louise had loathed when she was back in Bern, but she was unperturbed and smiled warmly.

"Aunt Maeve, and cousin Aren, it is good to see you. What a surprise, I wasn't expecting you," she said, and glanced flittingly at her spouse. He politely bowed in his graceful way, and smiled like his wife.

"A pleasure to meet you. I believe we met at our wedding last year?"

At the mention of the wedding, Aren remembered the event. It seemed that even then Louise was changed. She looked far happier in Reglay than she had at the estate in Bern, and after a year of marriage in Etruria, she was even more so. In her previous life- especially after the death of her mother- Louise was often suppressed by the shadow of her aunt and had been so meek.

"Indeed," his mother replied, "we came to visit Louise at her anniversary."

Aren pulled his hat further so that it cast a shadow over his eyes. Maeve had always been stiff that Louise had had her wedding in the winter. It was a terrible season, she always said, a time when decent people stayed at home and followed politics through passed letters. During that winter specifically, his mother had a terrible cold and was perfectly miserable.

"Ah, but travels are so difficult this time of year, Aunt," Louise said lightly, as if she knew his thoughts, "It was very considerate of you." There was an awkward silence that followed her words. Aren looked at the half-hidden world from under his hat, and Maeve wrapped her pale, bony hands under her fur sleeves. She began to speak, but Aren paid no attention to it, nor to Pent's response. He noticed instead that Louise had grown an Etrurian accent. She spoke with longer vowels and lighter consonants, any hint of Bern was light.

Suddenly realizing that Louise was looking at him, he stood upright and lifted his hat slightly.

"--we'd be delighted for you and your son to stay," Pent was saying, "As long as you prefer, it would be an honor." It was a bad habit of Aren's. He had a tendency to drift away in his thoughts. Mother always scolded him for his absent-minded behavior.

"Yes," Louise added, and touched the Count's arm, "and if you are not too tired from the travels, perhaps you may join us for dinner tonight."

"Yes, that would be fine," Maeve answered.

"Aren?"

"S-sure," he replied. She seemed like such a different person, like the distant cousin he only remembered from forever ago. Her response was an undying smile.

"Claudia," Pent said, and the girl who had stopped Aren earlier stepped forward. "would you kindly direct the lady to her room?" So it appeared that that strange girl was under Reglay's service. He never would have guessed. She wore a puce dress, and it was made of velvet.

"Gladly," she responded in her nearly monotonous voice. She tapped Maeve with her index finger. "If you would come with me, please." Though she was pretty, she had large, empty eyes, and they made Aren uneasy. She still spoke strangely, each syllable was stiff and toneless. Maeve said nothing, and neglected to acknowledge Claudia's presence.

"And if you would excuse me," Pent said when the two had left, "I must arrange for a locksmith." Louise stepped away from him.

"You would dare! And spoil my precious work?"

"We can talk about that later." He was undaunted, and there was a humorous radiance in his eyes. Then he left the room promptly, calling to the steward down the hall. Louise brushed her braid behind a shoulder and took Aren's hand.

"I'll show you around," she said affably, and he nodded dumbly. She led him through the opposite door, still holding his hand like she had when they were younger. "How old are you now? You must be fourteen?"

"Fifteen in the spring," he confirmed, slightly distracted. "Why did he need a locksmith?"

"Oh." They ascended a staircase bathed in a white light from the tall windows. "The library is locked. If you know anything about Lord Pent, you know that he has an… obsession with his studies. I was worried that he would be so immersed in them that he would forget about the anniversary, so I made sure that the key and its spare were properly lost. I hope you weren't hoping to see it. I don't suspect that anybody will be able to open that lock for a few days at least. Even the magic of an unlocking stave will have trouble."

"Oh," Aren said, keeping his voice level. In fact, he _had_ been hoping to see the library. Though he was not necessarily fond of reading, he liked the setting.

"You've become so quiet," Louise noted as she turned the elegantly curved knob, "You used to be so talkative, back in Bern."

_I suppose we've just swapped personalities,_ Aren thought glumly, but he dare not say that aloud. Instead, he replied by saying that perhaps he was just a little tired.

"Well, this will be your room," she said calmly. It was dark inside, Louise quickly busied herself by turning the small, round knobs on the lamps hanging on the walls. As she pulled away the large curtains to expose the brighter, snowy light, Aren studied his quarters. There was a large, unlit hearth on the opposite side of the enormous bed, and several books lay in a neat row on the shelf above it.

"Oh, it's snowing," Louise said, the blue glow from the window shining on her lambent face. Aren approached his ghostly reflection in the dark glass and looked outside at the man swiftly lighting the lamps in a street below. Snow fell in large clusters, slowly tumbling about in the frigid wind.

"Louise," Aren began, his fingers tensely playing with the trimming of his coat. "Mother has a request to ask of you."

She pulled the curtain halfway back and extinguished the blue light.

"I suspected as much. I knew that she always hated this weather," she said, but she was not scornful. "Tell me, what does she wish of me?"

- - -

Aren washed his face with the cold water in the porcelain basin, splattering drops across the surface of the mirror. Brushing the back of his hand against the damp strands of hair, he dried off quickly and changed. It was dawn, he had been awake for nearly five hours. Since childhood he naturally awoke early, and he often spent that time lying in bed, thinking. He kept his mind occupied by staring at the different colors on the walls and ceilings, and time passed quickly.

A pale yellow beam fell from the window, sparkling against the swirling dust. The rug was warm, but it was often filled with unwanted particles and released them every time he stepped on it. His bare foot ran along the tassels on the side of the design as he bound his longish blonde hair back.

Louise had listened to his mother's appeal, and said that she would think on it, but he was nervous. Though the matter was urgent, he felt that it was a nuisance that it should come up during her anniversary. Dinner the previous night was normal, the discourse normal, it seemed that Louise had learned the subtleties of noble life. He was unsure whether she had spoken to her husband about it or not.

However, that thought was interrupted in an untimely fashion when he turned to see Claudia standing two feet away and nearly screamed.

"Pardon the intrusion," she said calmly, her hands clasped in front of her. "The door was open." He looked sharply at the ajar door in mortification, knowing that it had been closed -- and locked -- and he had not opened it.

"N-no matter," he mumbled, completely ashamed. He was still trying to understand what was disturbing about the girl. It was probably her eyes, her large, black eyes. They seemed so deep and unresponsive, and her remote character served to make her seem soulless. The way she tilted her head, how her sanguine hair curled into her cheeks, they all contributed to her overall alien conduct. She did not even appear bothered that he had been staring at her for so long.

"Breakfast is in the dining hall today," she said, "please come with me." Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away. He realized that he was still improperly dressed for breakfast, and hastily tore through his bags. Lacing his arms through the long sleeves of a bronze jacket, he hurried out into the hall and shut his door. The knob made a clicking sound, and he had a horrible premonition that he had just locked himself out of the room.

Claudia was standing at the end of the hall, waiting, staring at him with her glassy look. He fastened the final button on his collar, and with a slight nod, followed her out of the corridor.

The dining hall was a room with the eastern wall composed entirely of glass lined with metal, and his attention was first captured by the scene outside. A long balcony behind it was covered in snow, littered with footprints and the fallen icicles. Two men stood outside, leaning over the balustrade, speaking gravely. The first was Count Reglay. He was dressed casually in the cold, as if he had been requested unexpectedly. The second man was older, and was fully accoutered in clothes that was better prepared for winter. His face was flushed as if he had been traveling for a long time.

Inside, Louise and Maeve sat at the end of the table furthest from him. Maeve was speaking, but it was too far to hear her. Louise sat listening, her face impassive. He wondered if they were conversing about the request, and twisted his hands anxiously. As he approached, his cousin began to speak.

"As you see Aunt, this time is very crucial for us." Her voice was reproachful. "I cannot simply return to Bern as you ask of me." They _were_ talking about it.

"I understand that," Maeve said gently, more gently than Aren had ever heard, "I can see that the duties Lord Pent has is burdensome. But this is important to our family. You must understand."

"Oh, Aren." Louise set down her cup. "Good morning."

"Good morning, cousin," he replied, and sat oppositely from her. She indicated the pastries on the elliptical platter, and set down the dish and teacup in front of him. Claudia was invited to join them for breakfast, confirming Aren's thought that she was not a simple servant. The girl mechanically sat down in the seat adjacent to Aren's. He swirled the steaming liquid around in his cup, but kept his customary silence.

"All right," Louise said after some time, while Aren passed the platter of pastries to Claudia. "I'll speak to my husband about it, and I'll see what I can do." The promise seemed enough to mollify Maeve. Aren took a small cake with raspberry jam.

"Ah, everybody's here." Pent stepped into the dining hall, and closed the glass door. Snow had slipped onto the marble floor, and the edges of his cloak was damp. The other man he had been speaking to was gone. The Count sat at the head of the table, and accepted a cup of tea from his wife.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she said, resting her chin precariously, but elegantly, on her knuckles.

"Well, I couldn't very well ignore the man out there in the cold, could I?" He sipped from his cup. "And I certainly couldn't ignore a messenger from the Palace of Aquleia."

"The Palace!" Louise was clearly startled. "And the news?"

"It is being seriously considered," he answered serenely, "that I be selected to hold the position of Mage General." A sense of awe circulated the room, followed by a hushed silence.

"Will you be going away, Pent?" Claudia asked, surprising everybody. He glimpsed at Louise apprehensively, and then stared into the contents of his cup.

"I should hope not. I hardly know whether I should even accept. My studies in Reglay are arduous enough, but to add politics and government into it…"

"You don't have to agree right away," Louise noted, "and I don't want you to give it another thought. You're supposed to be on holiday this week."

"That's right," Pent said, with a wry smile.

"Excuse me," Claudia said, and pushed her chair back to stand. She exited the hall and disappeared through the door, leaving the others watching.

"Who is that girl?" Maeve asked before Aren could. He closed his mouth and listened.

"Claudia's the eldest daughter of a baron in western Etruria. She has been trusted in my care for the month. I had agreed to see if I could teach her any magic in my spare time." Aren dared to look directly at the Count to ask more.

"But she works?" When Pent turned his head to make eye contact, Aren felt an involuntary shiver. Though he was as kind and well-meaning as anyone could possibly be, the sheer fact that he was a relative and still a complete stranger was awkward. The man performed all of his actions with complete assurance, and exercised such certainty that it made Aren feel less secure of himself.

"She genuinely enjoys serving people. You may have noticed, but she has a mental illness, and has trouble comprehending many things," Louise answered with a sympathetic expression on her face.

"You can imagine my surprise when I saw her potential in magic, so I immediately tested her ability with a stave. Without training, she could use second level healing. I understand that her family is particularly religious and she really wishes to enter a convent when she comes of age. Unfortunately, because of her learning disabilities, she cannot study scripture or learn to use tomes." That thought made Aren feel slightly more comfortable. It made Claudia appear far less foreboding. He also felt considerably better, now that he knew the reasoning for her slow reaction and enigmatic nature. She acted like a child unaware of her surroundings, yet she must have been the same age as he was.

"My Lord Pent," Louise paused and met her husband's gaze. "my Aunt has asked something of me, it is something of an urgent matter." He switched from her face to Maeve's, his long, graceful fingers curled around his tea cup.

"An urgent matter?"

"Yes. Recently my elder brother, Louise's uncle, has suffered from a sickness and he is certain that he will not recover. He has specifically asked for Louise's presence, and he is desperate to see her again. I sincerely apologize for the timing, but he is bent on it, and I could not refuse him an attempt."

Pent was wordless, his silent eyes falling upon his wife.

"He was fond of me," she explained, "I was the only daughter and niece of the family, but I hadn't seen him for many years. If he wishes to see me so urgently, I am certain that it is important, yet…"

"Then there is no question," Pent said firmly. "you must attend to him. But that does not mean that I cannot come, surely?"

"My lord!"

"Come now, just suppose that this is a chance for me to finally meet my in-laws."

A bright smile fell on her lips. She laughed and closed her eyes, tilting her head to one side like a curious young girl. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"On the contrary, dearest, it was merely a simple--"

"Lord Pent." Everybody jumped as Claudia was suddenly standing next to the Count, and Aren could of sworn that she appeared from nowhere. She held out a small letter to Pent, sealed with a wax crest that he recognized as Etruria's royal emblem. "The messenger also left this for you."

The envelope was still cold when he took it. He broke the seal with a clean butter knife and read the first few lines before he folded it and stood up to excuse himself. With a flow of robes he left the hall. Louise sat, looking concerned, and Maeve rested her hand on her chin with her fingers curled over her cheekbone. Aren stole a glance at Claudia, who was looking at Louise sadly.

"Well, I suppose that we are excused," Louise said quietly, and stood. "If _I_ may be excused," and she left through the door opposite of Pent's. Aren watched her leave, until fingers closed around his arm. Claudia grasped him and pulled him out of the chair, pointing to the door Pent left through.

"Come with me. We have to follow him." Aren stumbled after her in complete quandary.

"W-why?"

But she did not answer, and continued to pull him, through the dark doors.


End file.
